Stories of Beyond the Tree
by The Connector's Phooka
Summary: Once the Connector, a wacky, wise, and slightly sarcastic phooka visits their world, Bolt and his friends find themselves caught on an adventure where they must save Penny, defeat a new enemy, and not go insane on the way. I AM THE PHOOKA! Hi there!
1. Chapter 1: Something Stirring

_**The Stories of Beyond the Tree: A Bolt Saga, with a Little Help**_

All is fine at the house, another peaceful day, until Bolt and his friends are blown beyond imagination itself, and must use the help of an old trickster, who calls himself– or is it herself– a phooka. Can Bolt, Mittens, Rhino and Penny find their way back to their own reality? And is this phooka so honest as they think? Rated T to be safe.

Disclaimer: This is my FIRST fanfiction, so please excuse me if there is anything wrong with it. I do not own several of the characters. In fact, I truthfully (and for now) only own my own character, me.

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**Chapter 1: Something Stirring**

As the sun rose that morning, there was a feeling that something was wrong in the air. The sun, which was shining brightly, had a certain tinge to it that did not really seem natural. But then again, what was natural here?

The Connector got up and yawned, in his nest in the highest branches of a tree, deep within the mountains. He was, all in all, a phooka, a shapeshifter, translator, and mischief-maker extraordinaire, beyond which you can guess what he was. His fur, ruffling in the early morning wind, was midnight black, so dark that black itself seemed pretty light-colored compared. He was slightly humanoid, except that his arms and legs seemed to have two joints between shoulder and wrist/hip and ankle. His head, with an extra set of ears and several smaller eyes in addition to the original ones, was also dark, and shaped like a rabbit's head. His face itself was rather unremarkable, a dog's nose, a human nasal complexion, all the usual things. The only true difference to any creature was that where his yes would by rights be, there were, instead, two balls of golden and blue light. And in the centre, a round black dot dominated.

The phooka yawned, scratched himself, and then sat back and let his mind do the getting of food for him. You see, in the 154 years he had lived, he had learned that his mind could go to any possible point in the collection of multiverses that flew around the tiny range of rock pillars he called his home. He wondered where he would go next.

There was a flurry of ideas, beings, thoughts, reflections, dreams, worlds, and other things, in the sky right above the phooka's lair, quite clear in ultraviolet, infrared, and the most precious color of all, Yellow Extreme. The mountains in which he lived were actually solid pillars of fact itself, more precious than anything you would care to name, in a flurry of worlds that might exist. He was the custodian of this place, the sole occupant, the god, perhaps. All he had to do was go and look at his worlds for company, as due to the knowledge there was everything else in his home, he had everything else. Simple enough if you knew how.

Today, something caught his eye. There was a small world out there, with only a hundred and twenty or so outlets of reality. It focused around a girl named Penny–rather poor parents, he gathered–, a dog named Bolt, a cat named–Come on, it's in here, he thought–Gloves, and–a hamster named Rhino? Weird, but worth the effort, he considered. This could be the gold mine he was looking for.

He was getting pretty lonely up here. Sure, he had universes flying by him, but it wasn't quite the same as having a real friend. Surely he could meet a few people that might just do the trick.

He jumped.

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§Author's Note: I will write when I can. I will truly appreciate it if you review.§


	2. Chapter 2: A Speck of Gold

_**The Stories of Beyond the Tree: A Bolt Saga, with a Little Help**_

Author's Note: I am sorry if it has been a while. However, I have school. You know how it is. I really am grateful to all my reviewers (even though there are only four at the moment while I am writing this) and I am especially grateful to Academia Cicero and TigressPL for their time in reviewing with a truly informative approach to a new piece of work and a heartwarming greeting to the young author's paradise of fanfiction. And let us not forget to hail Darthdragon!

Disclaimer: "Um, you forgot to tell them you didn't own any of us," said Bolt from backstage.

"OK, OK, I'm working on it!" I said. "I still own you, right, Phooka?"

"Sure do," said my beloved pet, lurking in the-_bright sunlight?_

"Oops! Forgot about scenery-"

"We're late already! COME ON!"

"I'm on it. Sheesh, I thought dogs _barked_."

**Chapter 2: A Speck of Gold**

A huge yawn escaped the jaws of the white American Sheppard as he rose from his person's bed. It seemed as though it was bright outside. Which was perfectly alright, because it was the weekend–_what?_ You couldn't sleep in on a Saturday! What on earth was the time? Bolt quickly glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. Seven o'clock.

Bolt uttered his first words that morning: "Where on earth is everyone?" It stood to reason that cats usually slept in, even with Rhino downstairs with the 'Magic Box' on with full volume. And Mittens wasn't there. Penny would have woken him up by now, wouldn't she? And her mom was usually supplying an endless amount of smells that made Bolt's stomach growl in a way that made even _him_ impressed.

So why was he lying on the bed, at seven o' clock in the morning, with no sound whatsoever and no _people_ whatsoever? It was all very strange.

"And it will get stranger," said a voice from the ceiling.

Bolt looked up, and fainted, for three reasons in particular. One, there was a strange creature in the room, and there were usually none. Second, it was on the ceiling, which usually meant that there was a bat. And this creature was obviously not a bat, because it had no wings, it looked like a monkey, and it was just a tiny bit larger than him; completely black, deep, resonant black, with deep blue eyes, and a speck of gold in each one. But that wasn't the reason that he fainted.

The reason that he fainted was that it had spoken in _every single animal dialect at once_. Usually, although animals could understand each other, they had slightly differing ways of uttering their languages; different nouns, verbs, etc. But this one had spoken in every single language at once, in a sort of melodic tone. Yet the tone was fierce, too; although it sounded as though it meant no harm to those that were friendly, it also seemed to suggest, in the tone that was beyond animal comprehension, that it would bite 'till it tore the very soul out of any person that dared defy it.

The phooka jumped off the ceiling, landed feet-first on the bed, and went over to the dog.

"Perhaps I shouldn't have used the Big Voice on him so soon," he said to himself.

***

§Author's Note: I will write when I can. I will truly appreciate it if you review.§


	3. Chapter 3: The Ninth Tail

_**The Stories of Beyond the Tree: A Bolt Saga, with a Little Help**_

Author's Note: I am sorry if it has been a while. However, I have school. You know how it is. At least, I hope that you do. I'd better get onto the set-

"Where have you _been_?" asked Mittens. "We're on in a few paragraphs, Mister I'm-Not-Allowed-To-Say-I-Own-Anyone-Except-For-A-Deranged-Phooka?"

"Hey, I'm not deranged!" said my beloved pet, this time in total darkness. _Finally_. It took the technicians a whole day to fix the lighting problems. "And these extra tails itch."

"You can unevolve them when we're through this scene, OK? Now let's get this show on the Royal Road to Reading."

"Royal Road? I though all animals were democratic," said Bolt from offpage.

"It's just a metaphor! We're on in THREE, TW-"

Dang. Did I get cut off again? That always happens.

* * *

**Chapter 3: The Ninth Tail**

"Oh, boy," murmured a sleepy, yet familiar black and white cat from the large bed in Penny's room. "Does he ever turn that thing off? This is _not_ the first time that I suggest for the sake of sanity that any cat living with an insanely excitable hamster ought to be deaf, especially around three o'clock in the morning."

"Ah, well, I'm up, so I'd better _get_ up," she thought to herself, as she stood up and stretched. As she got fully focused on the world, her still half-closed eyes showed her rather cranky brain a vision of Bolt and Penny, right there, fast asleep with the knowledge that neither was going anywhere too soon. _Gosh,_ thought a part of Mittens' brain she preferred to dub her Inner Absurdness, _I didn't really guess they'd be _that_ close._ They just seemed so relaxed, so at peace with the world it was almost hard to believe it. Or maybe they were just asleep.

Jumping down from the bed, Mittens headed out into the upstairs hallway. The house was so quiet at night, apart from the occasional outburst from Rhino's 'Magic Box', and even that seemed to have subsided a little. The night outside was cool and clear, and there was a window that was always open on the ground floor that led straight to the porch. _Why don't you go outside?_ said the tiny voice inside her that seemed to be controlling her entire sleepy mind. _The night air will do you good._ So Mittens went over to the window, jumped onto it, and landed outside in the cool evening air.

Perhaps her inner self was right. The night air was doing wonders for her five-year-old body. Human years, that is. In cat years she was basically a young adult. And so much had happened in that time. She had been a housecat, then after three years was declawed and turned out of the house; she had survived almost pure starvation on the streets of her native city, with only a surprising ability to bluff pigeons keeping her stomach very thinly distended. Then, she had been dragged across the whole country by a script-delusioned but inwardly good-natured dog, and later on a television obsessed and truly hyperactive (and supposedly hybrid) hamster, and had ended up becoming friends with the two lunatics, and finding a new home.

Although they weren't really lunatics, she thought. Bolt had been brainwashed, hoodwinked, by the director and staff of Sovereign Entertainment, and Rhino had been totally brainwashed, to a point, by a television, which he had dubbed a 'Magic Box', but they had changed, and become more normal. Silly, really, she thought, a Magic Box that shows pictures. Animals and humans alike have always, from the very dawn of time, deemed anything that they didn't understand as 'magic'.

Still, sometimes she wondered if there was anything else that she needed. But that was ridiculous. She had a _family_. Admittedly, it was composed of a thirteen-year-old-girl, her mother, a dog, and a hamster, but it was still family, in a way. So what could possibly be missing?

But her long, monologue-type thoughts were interrupted by a soft noise. The orchestra that had been playing in her feline brain while her thoughts and memories were running wild had packed up and gone for a long tour across at least fourteen dimensions. There was a rustling in the grass, a few feet away from the house.

Now, usually, any self-respecting cat will go and see who or what is on their territory, and Mittens was a cat to her rather blunt paws, so she started to head off into the grass. It was extremely long at this time of year, and Penny's mother, Emily, had decided to merciful and allow the back lawn to become jungles and forests galore for the games of her daughter's pets. Just now, Mittens was wondering if this was such a good decision. If she couldn't see the intruder, then he–or she, she reminded herself– would be able to sneak about _her_ territory without permission. Then again, she reflected, the only thing she would be able to attack the creature with was the garden hose, and that was some yards away. So perhaps a little cover would be welcome.

She hadn't been on guard at that moment, but now she was, because a soft "Moaaaw" was coming from the sleek, midnight-black cat in front of her. While one part of her mind was wondering what to do, another was analyzing the general appearance of the ca in front of her. The fur of the cat was extremely dark, as dark as the starless night sky above her, but that wasn't what alarmed her. Nor was it the fact that the cat seemed to have whites in their eyes that were blue, with a touch of gold in the center.

What bothered her was the cat's tail. The tail wasn't necessarily odd in itself. It was long, shiny, and sleek, with a splash of white on the very end. The problem was that there were _nine_ of them.

But she had very little time to realize this fact, because the ground caved underneath her, and she fell into blackness. The cat with the odd number of tails–true in itself–peered over the side of the hole.

"Blow," it said. "Anytime I try to get near a pretty female of any species, their courage is thrown to the winds, and they fall with their pride. Weird."

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§ Author's Note: I will write when I can. I will truly appreciate it if you review. How's that for a longer chapter? §


	4. Chapter 4: An Addition

_**The Stories of Beyond the Tree: A Bolt Saga, with a Little Help**_

Author's Note: I am sorry if it has been a while. However, I have school. You know how it is. At least, I hope that you do.

Academia Cicero, you must have been a fortune-teller at some point. Or maybe you're just good at guessing. But Rhino isn't coming up in this chapter. In fact, nobody I don't own (i.e. Bolt, Mittens, Rhino, Penny, Emily–simply a coincidence if it has anything to do with other stories-or any other character I might add) is in this chapter. Not even my dear phooka–

"Thank you for being so kind as to mention me," he said.

"Hey, can I get on with my introduction?"

"Not unless you put me in here and tell that guy over there to shrink his ego a little."

"You can really be argumentative at times, can't you? You're not in, and we're on!"

"You," said the creature, "will write to regret those words that our dear reader here just read. And just so you know–"

***

**Chapter 4: An Addition**

Down an end that is wounded but not yet dead, carried by a wind with not only a cold but also with bone cancer, and at the peak of a mountain that started from the top of Olympus, home of the gods, there is a door.

The door is a perfectly ordinary one. It is mahogany colored, smelling of mahogany wood, and is made of solidified custard. The knocker on the door is in the shape of a nauseous looking serpent, probably from all the custard. And the size of the door is perfectly normal if, compared to it, Mount Everest was about the size of, say, a toddler.

But the strangest thing about the door is that it _isn't there_.

This is the Doorway to Enchantment, where chimney sweeps do a wild Irish jig, where lions attack people to get cell phones, and where there is a wide amount of seemingly helpless princesses. Inside it, there is a collection of every thought in time, every secret world in space, stored neatly into groups.

One universe watched a small screen. On the screen was a map of all the worlds, and, enlarged, a dot that seemed to be multicolored.

**"So, he's heading for Earth number 2404 GDHJ 114, is he?"** thought the thing that seemed to take up a universe of its own. **"And he found it by **_**accident**_** and **_**didn't leave**_**? Now there's something odd going on around here."**

**"What's in that universe anyway, Thinktank?"** he said to his computer, whose actual name was Thinktank 000000042, and who really wasn't so keen on its master talking in bolded font all the time.

_"Information Sequence Upload. The 2404 section is limited to worlds others on Earth 1 have created. The GDHJ A-Section is limited to a parallel Earth belonging to intelligent animals, particularly three of them and their adoptee human family."_

**"And these are?"**

_"A white crossbreed American Sheppard named Bolt, a declawed black and white cat named Mittens, an excessively hyperactive hamster named Rhino–"_

**"–Rhino the **_**Hamster?"**_ said the being, amazed.

_"Don't ask. Information study continues. A thirteen-year-old girl named Penny Watson, and her mother, Emily Watson. Information Sequence Concluded."_

**"Thank you, Thinktank. I'll cover it from here."** The creature reached back, and formed himself into an elderly man, who promptly took a glass of fizzy lemonade that had recently appeared beside him.

Finally, he could take his revenge on the phooka. He had challenged himself to an enemy too dangerous, too recently to be forgiven. Plus, there was a whole universe he could absorb, and he hadn't been getting bigger for a while.

Now, it was all about timing. It was not for nothing he had changed an old phrase to read as, "When life gives you a lemon, ask for a refund so you can get something better."

***

§Author's Note: I will write when I can. I will truly appreciate it if you review.§


	5. Chapter 5: The Bickering of the Spheres

_**The Stories of Beyond the Tree: A Bolt Saga, with a Little Help**_

Author's Note: I am sorry if it has been a while. However, I have school. You know how it is. At least, I hope that you do.

"**This costume stinks. Who's been in it lately?**" asked the person that's _supposed_ to be on stage at the moment.

"It's rented. I mean, BNL doesn't necessarily make the best things, but it's cheap."

"That's because they use cheap sources to make their own materials," said Rhino. "That does not look like me."

"Good. It's not supposed to," said my dear phooka, the only guy I actually own, apart from–I'll tell you this guy's name later. "But I really feel cooped up inside this ball."

"Don't you worry so much, Connector. It'll all be over in a short while."

"I sure hope so. I think that costume needs a bit of work. And Mr. I'm A Whole Universe, I actually do recommend those lessons with Academia Cicero," said Mittens. "You ate the sandwiches that were supposed to be for all of us."

"**Hey, I was just hungry,**" said the guy whose name I have not revealed yet. "**I need a small amount of food to start my day.**"

"First of all," said Mittens, "Its lunchtime. Second, you got up, according to you, at four o' clock, instead of fifteen minutes ago. And third, there was enough food there to feed fifty people, and there's only ten of us!"

"Well, I suppose you were intending to eat a lot too, Phooka?"

"Hey, give me a break!" said my phooka. "I have nine stomachs!"

"You need to go on a diet," said Mittens.

"Guys, stop squabbling and get ready! We're on!"

* * *

**Chapter 5: Bickering of the Spheres**

"Boring. Boring. Boring. Let's change the word, 'cause I'm tired of saying boring. Boring."

Rhino the Hamster (or hybrid hamster, as he tended to tell anyone who made the mistake of calling him 'Rhino the Hamster'–OK, Rhino, we're on set here, so don't glare at me like that) was sitting in front of Penny's TV. It was just about three o'clock AM. He had originally been planning to go to sleep, until he realized that there was a new action series that only played at midnight, and he just had to watch it. It had been five hours since he turned on the 'Magic Box', and he wasn't tired in the least.

He was bored.

If this may seem rather a useless infection to comment on, let's just run that statement again. He. Was. _Bored_. Rhino was usually quite insane with excitement, as we know. So just imagine that all that excitement was like color in a picture, and since Rhino's different feelings tended to be to the extreme at all times, all the color was sucked out of it. That would leave the picture gray and dull, like those funny snowstorms you sometimes see on TV.

Admittedly, life was extremely different now than what he had become used to. At about a year and three-quarters old, he was by now more traveled, more experienced, and most certainly more wild than any hamster he had previously met. Which was a lot, right? I mea, he must know thousands of… well, then hundreds of…oh, fine, he grumbled to his mind. He had known approximately four other hamsters (assuming they were full hamster, unlike himself), and he had barely talked to them. Besides, he had known them when he had lived in that trailer, cooped up with no knowledge that his greatest idol was right nearby–

A huge crash interrupted his thoughts. As he looked, he realized that someone must've crashed through the front door.

If there was anything to rejuvenate Rhino to his usual insane excitement, it was this. He considered waking up Bolt, but his crazy bit objected. _Don't go to Bolt!_ It seemed to say to him. _Finally, this may be your chance to prove yourself! Go get the door!_

So Rhino heeded the huge burst of energy, and went out into the hall. When he turned the corner, he could see what had caused the noise. It was amazing, even to him.

It was amazing because there was an _exact_ copy of him in the hall, right down to his plastic exercise globe. It turned to him and spoke in a voice that sounded a little too nonliving to be his.

"**Rhino the **_**Hamster?**_" it said.

Modesty and the feel of the moment never got in the way of Rhino correcting people about his species. "Yeah, well, my ancestry isn't _all_ hamster, you know. I mean, I'm one sixteenth wolf, a little wolverine-"

There was a _pop_, and another copy of him came up behind him. Only this time, it was only his exercise ball that was the same. Inside it, there seemed to be a strange, large but agile-looking, dark-furred hamster with blue eyes and a golden spectacle marking around them.

"You just had to ruin it," it said to Rhino's duplicate. "I thought I got rid of you a while back."

"**Certainly not, Tree-Climber,**" said the copy. But Rhino had just realized something.

It is amazing how certain parts of the mind open up in a new situation. Rhino currently was noticing that although the first hamster was the image of himself, it wasn't quite the spit. The new hamster seemed a little larger, and the whites of its eyes were black.

"**You keep your thoughts out of this, guinea pig! You have no respect for Higher Beings!**" said his double.

"Oh, I'm sure that once he gets to know them, and once he gets to realize that they are, unlike you, no doubt, not about to take over his world, I'm quite sure he'll show them some respect. Right, Rhino?"

"**Don't say anything in agreement with him! You'll mess up everything!**" wailed the first hamster.

"Too late," said Rhino, grinning.

An odd thing happened. The first hamster became slightly deformed, so Rhino's face was now disfigured. Then it became a blur of light. The other hamster quickly rolled his ball over Rhino, so that he was face down. Rhino heard an explosion, and the words "**I guess I'll have to have the last one, then. Fair enough,**" but he was too confused to care. Then the noise stopped, and the huge pain on his spine was released. The odd hamster started to speak, but was cut off by a large, angry and not-too-sure Rhino jumping through the walls of his ball.

"Oh, well, all in a millennium's work, I suppose," he said to himself.

* * *

"Cut! OK, guys, that was great! Rhino, good acting on your part!"

"Thanks," said the hamster, disentangling himself from the huge wreckage of my phooka's temporary 'prison'.

"Hey, I read that!" said my pet. "And don't you think it would be a good idea to tell them some of us can Read?"

"OK, I'll tell 'em later. But for now, you'd better all get home!"

"Right," said Bolt, coming onpage. "You did great, Rhino!"

"So, are you picking up Penny tomorrow?" said the phooka. "You know it's her day."

"I am. And guys, by which I refer to Bolt, Mittens, and Rhino, you can take the day off tomorrow. We'll be working with humans here!"

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§Author's Note: I will write when I can. I will truly appreciate it if you review.§


	6. Chapter 6: Wise Men Never Try

_**The Stories of Beyond the Tree: A Bolt Saga, with a Little Help**_

Author's Note: I am sorry if it has been a while. However, I have school. Plus I've been a bit sick. You know how it is. At least, I hope that you do.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" said my phooka. "Apart from you not owning most of us, the city of Whoville, or Jostein Gaarder's book. We're all ready, after all."

"Oh, yes. I'd like to thank Tigress PL for that exceedingly valuable information about the intelligence of animals and the locations of Bolt's home and town, although I didn't quite see the house. It really helped a lot with this chapter, and I hope I got the address right."

* * *

**Chapter 6: Wise Men Never Try**

Miles away and several days later, the lunch bell rang at 2334 Mayberry Street, Silver Lake, California. For Penny Watson, 13, this was boredom and a break at the same time.

Honestly, it was a break, she thought as she headed out to the playground at the back of the school. After all, who doesn't want to escape the rat race of various classes and studies and lessons for a bit of free time? The trouble was that she didn't know what to do with it.

Five years of having a dog had not only taken their toll, they'd burned up a few forests in the process. She really couldn't imagine what she would do without her faithful and loyal companion, Bolt, right beside her. That was why school always got a bit difficult for her. When she wasn't working, she was thinking. There just seemed to be too much on her mind; the past and future were quite excluding the present.

Admittedly, though, she thought she was coping with it better than others like her. Being an actor for some time had helped; the kids seemed to like you a bit more if your name and likeness were at one point being watched all over the country, and most teachers, she thought, gave the impression that they were proud of having a star as one of their pupils, even if some people only thought of it as a comet. No comment after that, she reflected.

But there, in that last afterthought, was her second problem. Admittedly, he had always been very bright, and caring had always been a part of her life. Again, thanks to Bolt, and the rather … peculiar friends he had brought with him when he had made it back to her. They were actually her only real companions, along with her mother; her father having been drafted to the embassy in Toronto, ON, he could barely be much comfort. But her mother… ah, she had, unknowingly, made Penny think more and more at school.

It was she that had bought Penny that book on philosophy. _Sophie's World_, the title was. And Penny had actually really liked it. So much, in fact, that she had started talking about it to people at school about it. That was where the whole actor thing had helped some more. People knew that other people that were in acting usually had to have something to calm them down if they were stressed, so the entire philosophy thing worked out quite well.

She knew how it might have turned out if she hadn't been on _Bolt_. Apparently, while she had been away, a new boy from Canada had come to live with his family in their small town. His name, as her new friend Kate was willing to point out, was Johnathen Olwanczyk.

"It's pronounced Ol–Wan–Check, it's easy," he kept telling everyone. But the nickname Owl an' Jack had only been the start of his troubles. It was really, she told herself, watching the people around her playing their games, that he was clever. And that he was clever in a very special way.

The boy enjoyed acting, which was fine by Penny, but he _really_ seemed to mean it, as if he was actually the character the script showed. Penny had known him for about two weeks now, but she had already gotten a lot of information on him from everyone else in her class. He also seemed to enjoy things that were just weird, like building things. When he did try to build something, and if it was the right thing, he put every bit of himself into it. He also did things like making languages that were complex, interesting and could not be understood by any other human being. Even his parents seemed to be confused as he poured out sections of large poems of the Segelivan Krinjans at the table, or so she heard.

And there were his jokes, she remembered. Jonathan's jokes never seemed to make sense. In French class, when they were studying phonetics, the teacher had asked him where the word _pompier_ fitted. He had said, "in Italy, I think." It took even her about ten seconds to understand. They were basically, she realized, his way of making fun of how absurdly everything fitted together.

She couldn't say that she liked him, or had a crush or anything. He was just rather interesting. And now she could see him walking across the grounds, talking with other students, some older, some younger than him. To some he was 12; to others he said he was 155. He was _different_. And to her, that separation wasn't just on the playing field; it was in the world. She'd be pretty hard-pushed to find another exactly the same.

_But,_ said a rather annoying voice inside her head, _if you don't have a crush on him, then why have you dedicated about twenty minutes to thinking about him?_

Face the facts, she replied. I'm changing. And when puberty comes along, I start to think.

He'd said something very odd to her, this morning, as they were going in. He'd said, "you know, I think you're one of the only ones of you who thinks properly." And she'd given him a look that had jumped off both ends of the line between confusion and disgust, and hurried off. Just her luck he was in her class.

She heard a small noise behind her. It seemed to be a boy, around her age. Then again, in grade 8, there were a lot of people around her age. This boy, though– it was odd, but he was about the exact opposite of the other boy that she had spent so much time thinking about. He had thick, short black hair, brown eyes, and he usually wore a yellow T-Shirt and blue jeans. Not like John, who wore black trousers, a white shirt, and a black vest every day. With this guy, you couldn't help laughing around him. He seemed very funny, for a reason she just couldn't put her finger on. And she knew he was smart and brave and strong, because… well, she couldn't put her finger on that either. But she just knew the boy in front of her was all the things people said he was, because, well, everyone said he was, and, well, she didn't want to jeopardize her position in the tough society of school any longer.

"Hey," he said. "I think you know me. I'm Ted."

"I'm Penny," she said, flustered for a reason that she was a bit too embarrassed to think about it. She had an odd feeling that she was flying.

Just for a moment, she thought she heard Ted mutter something that sounded like "emotional download complete." But she must have been daydreaming. Honestly, she must have been delusional from whatever was happening to her.

"Would you like to come and talk to some friends of mine?" Ted asked.

"Umm… sure," Penny replied. "I mean, it's not as if I have anything to do or anything."

"Don't!"

John, the weirdo who barely even spoke to her, was running towards her at a tremendous pace. Surprisingly, he stopped just before running too close for comfort. "Keep away from him! He's dangerous! Anyone who toys with your emotions and makes your immune system to him shut down must be dangerous!"

"Ah, you keep out of this," said Ted. "Seriously, man, you are so not cool. Keep away."

But John wasn't listening. He actually seemed to be pleading with her. "Penny, I really don't think it's safe around him. He isn't _right_."

"Are you talking about _me_?! You weirdo!" exclaimed Ted, going from a high, shocked voice to a disgusted tone. "Man, you're just doing this 'cause you want all of us to become weirdos like you! Right? Huh? Say it! Say it!"

_You've seen enough,_ said the little voice inside her head. And she had. But not in the way her head had meant.

"Come on, Ted," she called out, and walked away. Ted followed her, leaving the boy behind, muttering to himself.

* * *

"Humans! I try to save them, and what happens? They're just too conceited to care," John said. "Any luck, phooka?"

"Considerably more than yours," said an apparition of a large, dark-furred creature that seemed to be standing on the boy's watch. "I've got Bolt and Rhino under control."

"And Mittens?"

"Not yet."

"But my signals are tracing your DNA strands along with hers!" exclaimed John.

"Nope. Never seen her."

"Are you certain?"

"Dead certain. Well, keep trying, that's what I have to say."

"How dead? Oh, I was just joking. I will. Thanks, phooka," said John, and then "thanks for giving me this chance."

"No problem, old friend. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to go and visit Professor Whooka, off in Whoville." And the apparition vanished like it had never been.

It was a small price, John thought. Having to talk to your watch to have a real friend.

* * *

§ Author's Note: I will write when I can. I will truly appreciate it if you review. §


	7. Chapter 7: Not Above Cheap Tricks

_**The Stories of Beyond the Tree: A Bolt Saga, with a Little Help**_

Author's Note: I am sorry if it has been a while. However, I have school. You know how it is. Plus, my internet connection has been down for a while. So let's begin.

"You don't own most of us, remember?" said Bolt.

"I most certainly don't. Thank gods for that. I would have been crazy by now."

"Hey!"

"Oh, and by the way, for future references, the character of John Olwanczyk is a slight exaggeration of myself. But only just."

* * *

**Chapter 7: Not Above Cheap Tricks**

"Uhhh…."

Bolt woke up, after what seemed like an eternity, and opened his eyes wide, ready to see the world. But he was out of luck. For the moment, the only thing he could see was himself strapped to a machine. And _that_ was not pleasant.

After fainting from hearing that terrifying voice, Bolt had had a series of very strange dreams. He had no idea what they meant, but they were really odd.

First, he had been in Penny's house, and had need to go outside for a small while. He had gone outside, and seen Mittens, all curled up, wounded. And right beside her, two cats, with claws outstretched.

"_WHAT HAPPENED?_" he had shouted, before he had lost consciousness, and another dream had begun.

He was standing in front of a statue of Balto, the dog that he had only heard of a few times, but who he apparently was a contemporary of, if going across the entire country counted for anything. He had looked down, and had seen a few broken blue bottles at the bottom of the statue, and had touched them.

That was when he lost consciousness again, and moved onto a dream that was stranger than the two before.

He was standing in the middle of a large glass plain. But there was something wrong with the sky. It was every color imaginable, even ranging into the colors Bolt himself could not see, such as different shades of red, green, and colors that only Mittens claimed she could see; ultraviolet and infrared. However, just as he had been aware that there were these colors nearby, he had been aware that there was another color, way beyond his vision scope. And the source of it had been coming from somewhere to his left.

It had seemed to be a hole in space, but it wasn't black at all. Moreover, it had seemed to be all the colors in Bolt's eye scope, but with just a bit more to it than that. And it had spoken to him, in a voice containing all time and space in it.

"_You must make your choice, Bolt,"_ it had said. _"The most terrible choice of your life. So far."_

And what he had gotten from that dream was that even if the dream creature was something truly majestic, prophetic, and wise, it certainly wasn't above cheap tricks.

And now he had woken up tied to a chair. Talk about coincidence all you like, but he just didn't see the connection.

Still, there was something going on. He realized that the chair seemed to have been specifically designed to fit him. But he had never had any sort of measurement done, so someone had probably taken a very lucky guess. And now, he could see what was around him, and that was probably stranger. All that talk about coincidence had left its mark.

The chair he was attached to was in the middle of the dream field. And the sky was no different. But so far, he hadn't seen the odd light.

He heard a voice behind him. It sounded like the voice that he had fainted to (see Perfect Sounds for Getting Scared 42.9 FM for more), but it seemed more normal.

"You know, I would have thought you'd be a bit smarter. You didn't even wonder why there's a chair in the middle of a field."

***

"You!" shouted Bolt, struggling at his bonds. "You scared me half to death!"

"I did?" said the voice, sounding genuinely surprised. "Well, at least that's _one_ thing I can be sure of that's going to happen. Perhaps it's time you got out of those ropes, hmm?"

"I don't see how I can! Perhaps you could ask me to get you a packet of dog food while you're at it?"

"Oh, a sarcastic streak, eh? Must've picked that up from Mittens."

"OK, this is just a bit too much! You let me go!" shouted Bolt, struggling.

"But you aren't even tied," said the unseen speaker. And just as he said it, Bolt realized _he had never been tied up_.

"Now," said the voice, "perhaps you'd like to see me? It won't be too good, mind you."

"Fine," said Bolt. He turned, and saw, standing before him, in the flesh, _himself_.

***

Bolt almost fainted again from the shock. But the entire situation was just too weird for him to faint. So he went ahead and stared at his copy.

Nope. This was not a trick. He was most definitely looking at himself. But the oddest bit about this new Bolt was that he had a lightning Bolt down his side. Jet-black, it stood out on the dog's back like the moon, who is _never_ allowed inside.

"Oh, yeah," said New Bolt. But it wasn't in Bolt's voice. It was in a dog voice, to be certain, but this time he was certain it wasn't his own. "This is _real_, Bolt. It means that I _am_ a superdog. Much more than you ever will be."

Bolt stared at the dog. "You're not."

New Bolt looked surprised. "I'm not?"

Bolt grinned. "Prove it to me."

"I don't want you hurt. Endangering you could mean the very end of your alternate dimension."

Bolt was taken aback a bit. "You're lying. Now prove it."

"Sheesh. My person must've done some work on you, to make you _this_ stubborn." The creature sighed. "But I suppose you can't teach an old dog new tricks. I'll show you."

The other dog stood back a bit, and then–he was standing several yards away, grinning.

This time, Bolt was really bowled over. "Which is odd," said the creature, in perfect time to his thoughts. "I would've thought it would take more to bring _you _to shock."

"Who are you?" shouted Bolt.

Now Other Bolt looked serious. "Do you really want to know?"

"Darn right I do!"

The dog sighed. "OK, but it won't be pretty."

"What do you-" began Bolt, and then stopped. The dog was changing. First, the tail grew longer and longer, growing at an alarming rate, becoming sleeker, and ending in a perfect semicircle. The dog's fur was getting darker and darker, until it reached a stunning midnight black, the lightning bolt blending in, then vanishing into the dark. Its legs seemed to extending, growing an extra joint, and its paws were changing into humanoid hands, with opposable thumbs and nine digits. Finally, the face changed, with the snout growing smaller and the eyes growing larger, with the ears extending to the shape of a rabbit's. It had become a monkey-like creature, but with elements of other animals as well.

Bolt just stared as the–_thing_ spoke again. "Molecule diversity. My cells simply rearrange themselves on my command, to any shape a species possible. And just so you know, you're stuck, your friends may be in danger, and I'm a phooka. I hope I didn't just scare you out of your wits."

"Nice try," said Bolt, smirking.

* * *

§ Author's Note: I will write when I can. I will truly appreciate it if you review. §


	8. Chapter 8: The Wired Hamster

_**The Stories of Beyond the Tree: A Bolt Saga, with a Little Help**_

Author's Note: Hey, for once I get to change the author's note. I think this will be something of a break from my usual dialogue. Things are going well, and I seem to recall having just about the same amount of reviews in one day as I had for September. And for those wondering about the title, it would be good of me to point out that a hamster on the computer is a mouse with no cord attaching it to the computer.

Plus, I have the funny feeling that my Rhino chapters are a bit short. I will try to get myself to write longer ones in the future.

Now, at last, I will continue with the story, _after _I've said that I don't own anyone except for the phooka, the unnamed character, and the cat o' nine tails. And I certainly don't own Rhino's dream.

"Rats. I missed it," said Mittens.

"Indeed."

* * *

**Chapter 8: The Wired Hamster**

Doctor Calico stared down at the tiny teddy bear of an animal that seemed to have just carved a huge hole in his wall. Perhaps he spent a lot of money on interior decoration.

"Who are _you_?" he said slowly.

The tiny creature glared at him. "The name –is _Rhino_."

"Rhino. The Hamster," said the Green-Eyed Man, in a voice that sounded both let down and bored at the same time.

Rhino started his long monologue. "Yeah, well, my ancestry isn't _all_ hamster, you know. I mean, I'm one-sixteenth wolf, a little wolverine…"

And the hamster in question woke up, finding himself in the ruins of a plastic ball, out in the front hall of Penny's house.

Then memory flooded back. He had been watching a new show, and then there had been this huge crash, and then he had gone to see what it was. And then he had seen those two hamsters, and had played for time while the other one had disappeared, and then he had started fighting the other one…

It was then he realized that he could not remember what had happened after that. But he was standing in the remains of a hamster ball, and his own ball was right over there. Ah, well. The other guy must've gone, too.

In the meantime, he might as well watch some TV while he was down here… and not caring that he had been watching TV all night, the hamster went back to his beloved 'Magic Box'.

He went back into the living room, with its brownish, homely paint and a couch close by the television. Rhino turned it on, and started to flip through the channels.

He had just been flipping through a few channels when something caught his eye. On the TV, he saw a picture of the very hamster he had attacked when he had been knocked out. Adrenalin filled his tiny body and intoxicated his already overreactive brain.

"Fiend, you shall pay for my memories!" he shouted, and rushed at the TV, forgetting that he would just bump into the screen.

It was lucky he forgot, because at that moment he _did _go through the screen. It would seem to Rhino, if he were paying attention, that it was like going through a waterfall. But he did not notice this, and charged through toward the creature.

And the television turned off.

* * *

§ Author's Note: I will write when I can. I will truly appreciate it if you review. §


	9. Chapter 9: A Very Slight Trick

_**The Stories of Beyond the Tree: A Bolt Saga, with a Little Help**_

Author's Note: I was just a small bit disappointed when I didn't get any new reviews. But then again, it's lucky that I had such excellent ones earlier. And I'm not trying to flatter.

"So, welcome back! And Vincent, get off that pile of scripts! You really ought to be grateful for this bit! Plus it was my birthday on October 14th!"

Oh, and now I have to say that I don't own anyone. Tell me, do I have to redo this every time?

* * *

**Chapter 9: A Very Slight Trick**

Mittens woke up, and for a moment it seemed as though someone had been prolonging her revival. But there was no sound that her ears picked up.

Ah, well, the ears failed her, so here come the eyes. She opened hers, and it seemed as though she had fallen down a hole. Then she remembered. She _had _fallen down a hole. The ground had fallen away beneath her. Only a couple of seconds after she had seen that other cat…

But try as she might, she could not remember any single thing about what had made the feline strange. Something about his tail, was it? Perhaps he had been neutered. But she was quite certain it wasn't anything that simple. There was something else going on here…

Finally, her body caught up with her brain, and she could get up. From what she could tell, the hole she had fallen in was not necessarily narrow; it was big enough for there of her in there, and considering that cats enjoyed a bit of privacy at times, that was big. But the trouble was that it also seemed pretty deep.

So, she was stuck at the bottom of a deep hole, and it was nighttime. What exactly was she supposed to do? It seemed to her as if she was stuck. And there was no way out.

She could always call out for help, but most likely nobody would even notice. They probably wouldn't find her until morning, which was barely any comfort. But now, perhaps, she could attempt to dig a bit more. Admittedly, her paws were as good spades as a wooden cube, but at least she could try.

That was when she heard the voice. "Or," it said, "you could try another way."

She turned around, and saw the cat again. And now she remembered that he had a truly odd number of tails. Nine, in fact.

"Well, I hate to intrude," she said, "but since there doesn't seem to be another way, I think I'll try digging first. Anyway, what am I supposed to do? Mimic a collection of earthworms? I only have one tail, you know."

"Admittedly, I can see that," said the other cat. She now noticed that the tip of one of his – she supposed it was male – ears was not in the same geographical location as the rest of him. "But I think this lot are just for decoration. I was, at one point, a seafaring cat, and I suppose you've heard the phrase 'Cat o' Nine Tails', hmm?"

"Yeah, but I didn't think-" said Mittens, before the other one started again, "Me neither. It was originally a pirates' whip, but I suppose they wanted to give me extra tails as a joke. Just like them."

"OK, you keep saying 'they' and 'them'," said Mittens–

"No. I only said each pronoun once," said the other. "Anyway, I'm sort of a genetic mutation. I was taken away from a street in Turkey where I was loved, and I was made into a ship's clown. But I managed to escape, and wanted to head for home. Trouble was, how to get back? I couldn't just take the ferry."

"I thought cats hated water."

"Yes, but only when it's on them. Back to the story. I knew that a family that lived on my street and cared for me like their own had a winter house in Canada, but that they had recently moved to Hollywood. So I made my way there, and then I found myself in your backyard, and then you fell into this hole. End of story. Beep. You were saying?"

What Mittens was thinking was: Gods, this cat is even more sarcastic than I am. And I don't even know why I said Gods.

The cat extended a paw. "I hope I have not offended you. It's just that I'm kinda tired, in a completely new world, and I want to get back home. And by the way, I have many names, but the one that was called to me by the Canadian family, and the one I am going to use at the moment, is Vincent."

"I'm Mittens," t'other spake, and held out yonder paw.

The cat looked confused. "Sorry, I'm a bit confused. Why are you holding out your paw? And why were you just thinking medieval Feline?"

"Oops. Sorry," blushed Mittens, and then realized something. "How did you know how I thought?"

"Your Yellow Eccentric mark," said Vincent. "Yellow Eccentric is only visible to certain species, and even then, only a few in each. It allows a hunter to trace their prey by the sense of brain activity. My sense of it is very fine tuned, so that I can even read what thoughts you have."

Mittens thought: This cat has got to be kidding me.

"I'm not. Do you want to find a way out?" asked Vincent.

Before Mittens could even speak, the cat pushed against the side of one of the thick soil walls of the hole. Then he shouted, "Jump!" and just as the cats leaped, the wall caved in. But they jumped on the far edge, and by the time they began to fall again, the ground was completely filled in.

They landed between corn stalks, tired out. Vincent was the first to speak. "The dirt the hole had been filled with had to go somewhere, and it seemed to just have been compressed into the walls. Now that we're safe, I can say your thoughts are right. I probably am mad. But then again, who isn't?"

And Mittens thought: I'm going to have to keep on my toes with this cat.

"It shouldn't be too hard. That's how cats walk usually, isn't it?"

* * *

§ Author's Note: I will write when I can. I will truly appreciate it if you review. §


	10. Chapter 10: I Always Liked Petunias

_**The Stories of Beyond the Tree: A Bolt Saga, with a Little Help**_

Author's Note: OK, I'm back on the scene. And trust me, it was difficult. I'm not too certain that this story is my best, or if it is, my best might not be good enough. But I'm going to try it anyway.

"Come on!" shouted Bolt. We're running late!"

"OK. But perhaps you'd like to say the routine?"

"I'll do it," said my phooka. "Mister Deranged Author over here would like to say that Bolt, Mittens, Rhino, Penny, and basically everyone here is too superior for him to own them. We hope you agree."

"Hey!"

"Well, I did say, six chapters ago, that you would pay for this. And wasn't I right?"

"Sheesh."

***

**Chapter 10: I Always Liked Petunias**

"So, what _are_ you? What is a phooka?" asked Bolt to his…_peculiar_ host.

"Well, if you've read Celtic mythology– " began the creature, before Bolt interrupted.

"Read? As in Reading? Those funny marks humans use when they can't speak? I never really saw the point of that."

"I suppose you wouldn't. And several other species don't see the point of using a large box that makes tapping noises to communicate. But as I was saying, in human legends, a phooka (also known as various other names, of which I think Puka sounds worst) is a shapeshifter, an intelligent person, and a trickster. Apparently we tend to have orange eyes, although I never saw the point of that myself. My coloration, unlike my supposed relatives, is never always dark. Admittedly, I tend to use the coloration scheme of yellow, black, and blue, but it isn't always possible to do so."

"I am a bit different in other respects. If you must know, phookas usually have few relatives. I have none. I simply started existing, I have no idea when. You see, I live in a world where mountains sponsor soda can companies, where trees swim in lava substitute. Admittedly, I got a bit poetic there, but it's all true. In my world, anything is possible."

"You said 'your world'," said Bolt.

"No. I said 'my world'. And I don't come from the same world you do."

"So, is this your world?" asked Bolt, looking around at the field.

"Oh, no," the phooka laughed. "This is a boundary world. Right between your universe and mine. Mine is at the very core of the multiverse, the very trunk of the Tree of Life. Yours is just a teensy bit beyond the upper branches."

"And you know this how?"

"My entire life I spend traveling. My life's saga may be called the Stories of Beyond the Tree. But a story cannot be written while it is in progress, can it?"

"But why come here?" asked Bolt.

"This is a pretty one-way dialogue, isn't it. But I'm here because I think that your world can help me. And in return, I'll help you."

"How, hmm? I don't–_we_ don't need any help."

The phooka curled the tiny patch of fur on what for anatomical reasons we shall decree his chin, like a goatee. "Well, if I said the words 'Penny Watson'–Oof!"

I think we can conclude from that last remark that Bolt had just tackled the creature. "What is it about Penny?! Is she in danger?! Is she hurt?! TELL ME!"

But the phooka had slid out on the other side and regained his form, although he looked a little deflated. Literally. "It seems as though popular assumptions prove correct. By the way, excellent work on the TV show."

"Just tell me, alright?!" said Bolt, who was beginning not only to lose his cool, but also to melt the Arctic itself.

"Right. Nothing too bad is going to happen to her. She's only probably going to be devoured alive and integrated into a being that is composed of another universe and acts like a black hole with a sun tan. Nothing much at all– don't pounce me, please!"

"You've really picked up a sarcasm factor."

"I was born with it."

***

"So how can I save her?" said Bolt, trying to control his natural instincts and talk instead.

"Well, it shouldn't be too difficult to access your world again, and then it'll be a picnic finding Penny. But if she's with the person I'm worried about, then she'll be under his control. And trust me, that isn't good."

"And to save her?"

"You're very keen on that, aren't you?" said the phooka.

"_Yes_!"

"Right. So we will try. But Bolt, if we are to save her completely, I'm going to have to introduce you to a friend of mine…"

***

Getting back to Bolt's world wasn't as difficult as the dog had expected. Rhino had recently shown him a few science fiction movies, and he had come to the conclusion that to travel through universes you had to risk destroying your transport, and therefore yourself.

But all the phooka seemed to have to do was snap his fingers, whistle a tune, and throw a piece of his… fur on the ground. Almost immediately, a large gap seemed to appear in the universe. It was a bit difficult to see from the side, but when Bolt faced it from what seemed to be the front, he could see a garden. He recognized it as the garden of one of Penny's neighbors. She had gone to a party there just a few weeks ago, and he, although unintentionally, had ruined it for her. But all was back to normal quite soon.

"Now, Bolt," said the phooka," I'd like you to jump through this hole."

"You're sure it's safe?" asked Bolt. To him, he wasn't even sure if he would come out alive. It was very well for the individual before him; he'd gone jumping between realities so much that he could've installed revolving doors. But for him, this stuff was new.

"Oh, come on, Bolt," said the phooka. "How do you think I got you into this place, eh?"

"Why should I trust someone who won't even tell me their name?" said Bolt.

The phooka seemed to pale a bit. "I'm not certain I can tell you that."

"Why not?"

"Because if you were to list all the names I've had, you could fill the _Encyclopedia Brittanica_. And I mean it."

"What's the name you're using right now, then?"

The phooka sighed. Bolt was sure he had made his point to this extraterrestrial who seemed to be the part that said 'Read all about it!" He was not going to budge until the ultimate ideal of a name and a promise had been given.

"Fine," the phooka said. "My current name is the Connector. And by the power invested in me by the Multiversal Act of 43,342,823,138 AD. I promise you will get out of this. Alive. With you ears unharmed."

"What have my ears got to do with this?" said Bolt, who then thought better of it, and jumped. The Connector followed after him, after shouting "Beware The Sandwiches.

The portal closed. And Bolt and the Connector landed in a flower patch.

The phooka picked up a squashed flower, and sighed.

"A pity. I always liked petunias," he said, before shouting in the direction Bolt seemed to be going:

"Bolt! The school is the other way!"

"Sorry!" said Bolt, and walked the other way.

***

§ Author's Note: I will write when I can. I will truly appreciate it if you review. §


	11. Chapter 11: Rerun Chapter

_**The Stories of Beyond the Tree: A Bolt Saga, with a Little Help**_

Author's Note: Right, now we move on to Chapter 11. This will focus a bit more on what Rhino's going through right now. I think the phooka set him up in this just to do this. Ah, well, we can't all be as perfect as me, even though I don't own Bolt and his friends.

"Hold it. Did you say we can't all be as perfect as _you_??" asked Mittens. "Let me tell you-"

"And let me tell _you_ that whatever Connector's been telling you is wrong."

"Well, I _thought_ you didn't look the type to-"

"You keep quiet!"

***

**Chapter 11: Rerun Chapter**

Rhino was beginning to become aware of his surroundings. Perhaps the adrenalin rush had worn off, or perhaps he was temporarily sane. Which would be an _in_sane idea for a character like Rhino, as I think we know. His mind, having worn down the epinephrine, was finally beginning to get a grip. I think I just said that.

Anyhow, what he began to notice about his surroundings was that they seemed to be on a very important errand. He seemed to be rushing through several places at once – no, wait a minute, _they_, the landscapes, were the ones rushing. His earlier thought was confirmed.

So far, in the past few minutes, he had passed through an ice tunnel, a blazing inferno, an alien canyon, a crowded city street, and for some strange reason, an ice cream truck.

Then again, the hamster that was running next to him seemed pretty strange, too.

"Hey!" said Rhino, stopping in surprise. And the odd thing was, although the other guy there hadn't stopped running, he was still in the same place. Or maybe Rhino was moving. But it really didn't feel like that.

Ah, well. Time to get back to normal insanity. His tiny body began to blaze with energy once more. The creature would not stop running, so he would jump it. It was extremely good logic, give or take the fact that things might be a tiny bit…_odd_ around here.

And so he pounced. It was a good pounce, with rhino screaming various threats out to the black-and-gold hamster. Also, the gravity in that dimension seemed to be less effective than on Earth, so he jumped amazingly high and far in a few seconds. Plus, he took the creature completely by surprise.

But what he didn't expect to happen was that as soon as he crashed into the thing, he heard an extremely familiar voice. I think it was very bad for him at that point, once he realized what he had just crashed into.

"Ouch," said Bolt.

***

"Bolt!" For once during this story, Rhino actually seemed relieved. "Oh, it's _you_! I'm so glad that you're here! I mean, there were these other hamsters, and they tried to attack me, and-"

And the dog listened to the entire story, without any interruptions. At all. It was just as if he was asleep with his eyes open. Without blinking.

It was only after an hour that Rhino noticed this. By then, he had told the story three times. It took longer each time.

"Er, Bolt?" he asked.

"Eh? Oh, sorry, Rhino. Visual imagery has always been one of your many talents," he said, in all honesty. Or so it sounded to Rhino, who was beginning to brim up with pride.

"I really might like to hear it again, sometime soon."

"How about now?"

"Well, alright. If you want to."

So Rhino commenced his story yet again, while the dog thought to himself.

"Oh, boy," he thought. "I suppose I got more than I bargained for when I brought him here. Ah, well, at least he's safe, and I get a lot of time to wonder what's happening with my other selves. I just hope he doesn't notice I can sleep with my eyes open. Any time in the next few hours."

***

§ Author's Note: I will write when I can. I will truly appreciate it if you review. §


	12. Chapter 12: A Bit too Long to Write

_**The Stories of Beyond the Tree: A Bolt Saga, with a Little Help**_

Author's Note: Well, I was a bit disappointed that there was no reviews for Chapter 11, but then again, life isn't perfect. So I'm hoping this chapter may get better ratings.

"Well, it might help if you appear more often around here," said the Connector. "Readers, I've been stuck in his mind for so long, I can even access some extremely _interesting_ memories. The others are definitely going to like this."

"_That_ does it. Just for that, I'm personally going to go ahead and give you a hard time in this. You got that?"

"Uh oh. Guys! Help!"

"Can't I just finish this chocolate piece first?" asked Rhino.

"Aargh! How helpful!"

* * *

** Chapter 12: The Swallow, the Hemp, and the Determined Canine**

I could get used to this, said Bolt, running through the streets. He hadn't really run much since the TV show. Even when playing with Penny, there was always the notion that although it was _fun_ to try and get Mr. Carrot – it was always fun – there wasn't really a sense that anything bad would happen if he didn't reach it.

"Which there is now," said the Connector, running alongside, gaining ever so slightly every second. "I kinda don't see the point of those last few thoughts. Plus, bad cliché at the beginning."

"You can read my thoughts?" asked Bolt, amazed. Sort of. After what he'd seen from the phooka already, there wasn't really much that surprised him anymore.

"Well, kind of. Your yellow eccentric signature – which you shall now understand, for reasons such as it was in this story two chapters previously – gives a basic definition of what you're thinking. It can, if stretched a bit, even make out the words. And it's amazing how many people talk to themselves."

The phooka, as Bolt was beginning to realize, ran in a peculiar fashion. It seemed to basically come down to being able to switch the joints in his appendages, so that they faced either forward or backward; whichever was more convenient at the time.

"But you still haven't answered my question."

"Well, perhaps I should rephrase it a bit. I meant to…er…_think_ that there was a real sense that I could be, and will be, saving someone. You can't really get that when you're chasing a rubber carrot."

"Better answer. Mind that tree. And it would be _Mr_. Carrot, I assume? Look out for the hedge. Oh, come on, you can't hide _anything_ from me. Hey nice flowers! -" Whereupon Bolt had to wait a bit while the phooka stared at the flowers for a few seconds, frozen in mid-run (his hind legs weren't even touching the ground), before they started again-"As a matter of fact, it happened to be me that placed the carrot in your container the first place."

"Hey, it wasn't!" said Bolt. "It was a human. I don't think they allow other species to work there."

"I can change my shape, remember? LOOK OUT!"

The phooka pushed Bolt to the side of the road just before the car crashed into him. The car was basically a car; an old, dark-blue Saab. But the driver, if Bolt had been noticing, did not have a face.

But the Connector did. Almost immediately, his fur all bristled, so that he looked a bit like a giant, hominoid hedgehog that had been raised all his life in a morgue. His eyes suddenly blazed, and as Bolt, recently re-erected, looked into them, he saw a strange site; a ring of dancing figures, seen from above, in time to a wild and slightly spooky song that suddenly flooded his mind.

Then the phooka spoke. "He's here," he said, and Bolt realized that he had switched back to the voice that sounded like every language in the world. And this time, there was no mistaking the ferociousness in the voice. His very speaking sent a shiver down Bolt's spine.

"Who is?"

"The guy that both of us hate, as you might be interested to know that he's actually going to devour Penny, body and soul. That's all he does, eat. _And he drives that car!! His impertinence!! I'll devour him alive if I catch him!!!"_

"Stop!" Bolt rushed over to pin back the creature. The dog had never seen him so agitated before. But this seemed closer to insanity than anger. Perhaps all the odd animal's emotions were like this; pushed to the limit.

"You're no better off yourself, dog," snarled the phooka. But he seemed to have calmed down a bit. "Now, let's save this world, and mine, and all that isn't _heartless_."

* * *

The two looked a curious pair. There was Bolt, a medium-sized dog dressed in white fur, with surprising sapient brown eyes, a thick, curved tail, and extremely developed ears. And then there was the Connector, a slightly larger, monkey-type creature, with a thinner, longer, flexible tail like a cat's, ears of a rabbit, fur as black as midnight, and eyes in which the very gods themselves danced, spinning like cartwheels.

They ran differently, too. Bolt ran in his standard format, both of his hind legs and front legs at about the same time. The phooka, as mentioned before, seemed to have to move and dislocate several bones in order to keep up speed. But he did so, and it seemed to be completely painless.

Which would perhaps be why he ran into the net without thinking about it.

"Oof!" he exclaimed as he crashed into the hemp. The net was shut with a clasp. Bolt stopped as soon as he realized what was happening. His mind raced, feverishly. He wasn't sure he trusted this creature, but he couldn't just stand there and let his only helper in securing the safety of his world–as the phooka claimed–be taken away by animal control.

* * *

I think a little explanation might be in order here. When the duo had crashed into the petunias, it had attracted the attention of the owner of the house, who was the mother of one of Penny's friends, Kate.

Magical happenings were not common in Silverlake, and barely anyone had read mythology–with the possible exception of John Olwanczyk, as mentioned before–so the description that was given by the woman to animal control was along the lines of 'a big black monkey thing with crazy eyes, probably escaped from the Human Genome Center around here'.

When she mentioned that she had seen Bolt, who was commonly known around the neighborhood, it was only a matter of time before Animal Control decided that the creature was rabid, and had managed to alert people of its coming. Which, no matter hard the dog and the phooka tried, was clearly visible. Another person had claimed the creature was on their street to Animal Control, and had decided to catch it before they arrived to help them out a bit. Hence the net.

* * *

Bolt barked. It was, at the moment, everything he needed to do. Firstly, because he could attract the attention of the elderly man, and secondly, he could shout a warning to the Connector: "Get out of there!"

"Shellonia, Bolt, I will," replied the phooka, barking back. "But right now, you need to get to Penny. If she's already been taken, then there's a friend who will help you a bit. But just one more thing I've got to tell you. Time is mixed up. We-"

But it was too long. The man had picked up Bolt as well. Now, it could take hours to get to Penny.

"I'm really sorry about this," Bolt thought to himself, before biting the man n the arm. He yelled, and dropped both of them. Which, by some extremely cruel trick of narratives, left Animal Control to pick up the phooka.

"Go, Bolt! I'll bee OK! Just GO!" shouted the Connector. And as Bolt fled, he heard the person from Animal Control say: "Well, we've got you now, haven't we?"

* * *

§ Author's Note: I will write when I can. I will truly appreciate it if you review. §


	13. Chapter 13: Escape and Heartbreak

_**The Stories of Beyond the Tree: A Bolt Saga, with a Little Help**_

Author's Note: Righty-oh, we're back, in Chapter 13. I must say, it seems quite a long time since I wrote from the phooka's perspective. So I might as well have him thinking again. But _this_ time, I'm also going to write a bit from Bolt's perspective as well. Perhaps John isn't as bad as the kids think?

"Considering who he actually _is_," said Mittens. "By the way, am I going to come up at any point?"

"Well, I suppose I could squeeze you into the next chapter. But for now, I've got some writing to do."

"Good luck," said Bolt.

"Gosh, _one_ of you is civil here! I'm glad!"

"I was talking to Connector."

* * *

** Chapter 13: Escape and Heartbreak**

It's really quite odd, thought the Connector, struggling against the rope. Just his luck that he was made of multi-matter, which allowed him to exist in several dimensions, if need be. But it meant that he was terrible at getting out of ropes.

That man, the one who caught him; perhaps on a good day, and to someone in a humanoid form, he would be kind. And besides, he had probably thought the phooka was a type of rare monkey. But he was slightly worried about the people from Animal Control. Eventually, they would find out that he had a completely different DNA encoding from any other creature on this planet, which would make them think he was an alien. In a previous visit to an Earth, he had seen pictures of how 'extraterrestrials' looked. He had never quite understood why one group had compound eyes, another was made of metal, and another had _way_ too many tentacles. He couldn't really count as any of those.

He couldn't even shapeshift, because they humans had already seen his primary form, and this would only allow them to 'confirm' that he was from another planet. In fact, to them, he would pretty be much along the lines of a god, but one couldn't really choose one's appearances. Except he could, which was where it got _very_ complicated.

One of the men held up the net. The phooka could see his face. It positively reeked of cigarettes, and the man had shallow, distrustful eyes. "Well, we've got you now, haven't we?"

Out of the corner of his eye, the Connector saw Bolt run towards the school. How he knew where to go, the phooka wasn't sure. Perhaps it was the constant sense of a narrative, the reason he didn't really like going to these worlds. He hoped he would be able to make it on time.

The man in the car; he was one of the many aspects of the creature he despised. And driving that car! The Connector sensed that the car had something to do with the creature giving personal insult to the phooka.

Suddenly, an idea sprang to his head. It was so crazy, he was sure it would work. That was the way his life went.

"Or have you?" he hissed at the man.

OK, I know precisely what you're thinking. I think.

The man screamed and dropped the bag, the phooka turned into an elephant that broke the net, and then changed into a rabbit and escaped, right?

Wrong.

The man screamed and dropped the net, the phooka changed into an elephant that broke the net, and then _disappeared_.

Gotcha!

And approximately four miles away, at Sovereign Entertainment, a scriptwriter was desperately trying to think up a new idea for a _Bolt_ script. The 'aliens' idea had basically sucked all the life out of the show, so the episodes were getting harder to write. Just then, a creature appeared, right in front of his desk. It was large, dark-furred, and had blue and golden eyes.

"Whoops! I think I went to the wrong place!" said the creature.

The man started in surprise. "Wha-? How-? Who the hell are you?"

"I'm a phooka," said the creature, and vanished.

The man thought. And thought. And thought.

"Hmm…" he said. "And then Bolt meets…"

* * *

Bolt was running as fast as he could. Somehow, he could sense that his person was nearby. And it seemed as though something was wrong.

"Good you figured that out," said a voice in his head.

Bolt stopped in his tracks. "What? OK, just stop it, will you? I've been shown another universe, met a creature that _comes_ from that universe, made it back, seen the other guy caught, and now I'm on my way to save my person! I'm having a hard day as it is!"

"Sheesh," said the voice. "Well, just let me tell say that if something goes wrong, then there's someone waiting for you there."

"What can go wrong?" asked Bolt. But the voice had gone.

* * *

Bolt finally reached the place where he knew Penny would be. Even though he had never actually been to the school, he could sense his person's presence. And now he saw her! His person, the one he had traveled all this way to save, standing next to another human, who he did not know. All other humans all seemed to look the same to him, when in the presence of Penny.

But as he rushed toward his owner, barking frantically, he noticed that there was something extremely strange happening. Certainly, he was barking like there was no tomorrow – hmm, said a part of his brain that for lack of a better word I shall declare the quartex, I wonder where I learned that one – and seemed to be getting a lot of attention, Penny didn't seem to be noticing him.

In fact, she didn't even notice his presence, even when he got right up to her, until someone – he didn't know who – said, in English, "Isn't that your dog, Penny?"

* * *

Penny stared at into space for a while, not even noticing the fact that her pet was right in front of her. Then, just as she began to speak, the person she was standing next to spoke for her.

"Of course, no, you idiot!" he shouted at the human – female, as Bolt later found out – "that ain't her dog!"

And Penny, to Bolt's horror, replied, "He is right."

And I think it would be a good idea if we took a quick look in Bolt's head at the moment.

* * *

Inside Bolt's extremely complex anthropomorphic mind, tiny, nonexistent droids were working hard on a new program for the dog, when suddenly the screen started flashing bright red.

As the droids immediately tried to figure out what was happening (without much speed), a large, dark-furred creature sitting in a chair somewhat behind them was watching their actions, with a very serious look on his face.

One of the droids was briskly examining the past few events. Another was attempting to clarify for mistakes made in the footage, while yet another trying to stop Bolt from complete self-destruction, due to defiance of the primary directive (aka Protect Penny. Without person, function useless).

The Connector, although it was impossible to tell, was at the moment working on a _very_ interesting program indeed. After a few nanoseconds, he snapped his fingers, and a scroll of paper appeared in the air beside him. He gave it to a droid, who fed it into the main computer program.

A command appeared on the screen.

**Get Rescued by a Person Never Seen Before in Memorable Lifetime.**

* * *

Bolt was still in shock. His person had calmly, as though it were a matter of no great importance, rejected him. And, as mentioned before, his person was, basically, the only reason he saw fit to live. I am not talking about love here, but something deeper; he felt as one would feel if the sky burned up and the earth crumbled beneath them. Without Penny, his existence on the planet of his birth was completely without use. His many years of loyalty and friendship were wasted, utterly.

It came as a surprise to him, then, when he was picked up by a pair of hands. They did not feel anything close to Penny's and he knew it was not she, because Penny – not his person, but Penny, a person he simply was aware of – was standing in front of him. These hands had a sort of rough feeling about them, as if the person had been working for ages on an extremely difficult project. But these hands seemed to radiate a sense of comfort, which help to sharpen the seemingly dull and emotion-struck point that Bolt's mind was in. He did not struggle, but simply waited

Then he heard a voice. It sounded somewhat British, like the voice of Doctor Calico from the old TV show, but there were hints of the standard international accent in it as well. The tone sounded calm, but concerned. The pitch was still high, but with a slightly low tone to it; Bolt assumed this human was going through puberty.

"It's OK, Bolt," it muttered to him. "You're almost safe. You'll be OK."

But Bolt was not listening. He had fallen asleep.

* * *

Inside Bolt's head, the phooka was talking to one of the robots.

"And set the program on 'Calm Code Red' as soon as possible, got it?" he was saying. The robot saluted to him, and then rushed back to its station.

The phooka, now ready for a quick rest, found a tree in the vast storage houses of Bolt's memory, sat down on a branch that Mittens, tied to a leash that was placed around a small protrusion, was not occupying, paused the scene, and began to drift off into slumber.

"I knew John would help, " he muttered to himself. "And I'm certain that Bolt will be back on his feet quite soon. I wonder if I should allow him access to my I.Q."

"Probably not. Who needs an I.Q. of 3,000 anyway?" he replied to himself, before blanking out in a sleep that took both eons and half a nanosecond at the same time.

* * *

§ Author's Note: I will write when I can. I will truly appreciate it if you review. §


	14. Chapter 14: Vincent's Story

_**The Stories of Beyond the Tree: A Bolt Saga, with a Little Help**_

Author's Note: OK, here I am again. This time, we'll _finally_ catch up on what's been happening to Mittens. She's been getting a bit impatient–

"Of course I have!" said Mittens. "You may have noticed you put me on hold for _four chapters_ now? And Bolt and Rhino have been getting all the fun!"

"I had no idea being in a story was _fun_."

"Sure it is!"

"Well, sorry to say, _I _control things around here, so _you_ are under _my_ control, not your own."

"Perhaps you should go on strike, Mittens," said the Connector.

"Errm… on second thought, perhaps you should have a bit more of a part in the scriptwriting."

"Bad luck for me, though," said Mittens, "because I'm pretty much going to be listening to a story for most of it."

"Look, don't spoil the plot!"

* * *

** Chapter 14: Vincent's Story**

_OK_, thought Mittens, _where am I? Oh, that's right. I'm in the middle of the field behind the house, standing next to a cat that can read my mind and has nine tails (that I may be somewhat attracted to?), at around three o' clock in the morning. Great._

"Have you had some type of memory loss?" asked Vincent, the cat mentioned earlier.

"No, no. I just kinda feel as though I blanked out there for a bit."

"You did. Then, in your sleep, you ran around the world three times, caused a loss of shoes somewhere in Montana, and then made six-gilled shark virtually extinct. Then I brought you back here, and you woke up."

"WHAT?!" Mittens shouted. "I did all _that_?! And didn't remember _anything_?!"

Vincent backed off a bit. "Hey, I was just kidding."

"Oh, whew." Mittens relaxed a bit. "So nothing happened?"

"Nope. And as far as I know, it never will."

_Somehow_, thought the extremely annoying bit of Mittens' mind, _you appear to be under the impression that he just made a very good joke._

_ Quiet,_ she told it, and hoped that Vincent wouldn't notice her small argument.

"Who, me?" asked Vincent, surprised. "I never heard a thing."

"And how do I know?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I think animals tend to get a bit annoyed when they find themselves with a creature that can read their thoughts so early in the morning!"

"Well, I, er, wouldn't go to sleep _here_. Or even _now_," said Vincent.

"And why not, exactly?"

For a moment, Vincent looked extremely uncomfortable. She wondered (in a measured way, so that perhaps he wouldn't understand) what was causing it.

Still, you had to admit that it was sort of weird to not be able to keep anything private around here. It was all right for _him_; she couldn't see Yellow Eccentric. But _he_, this strange cat with nine tails, could, which meant it wouldn't be possible to have a conversation with her own head anymore.

Vincent seemed to realize this, but he only said, "Ah, interesting. You're attempting to think contemptuously so as to make me uninterested, right?"

Suddenly, he changed his emotions. Before he had been somewhat sarcastic; now, he seemed a bit sadder. "I can always turn it off, if you like," he said.

"How will I know you're telling the truth?"

Then, he seemed to get angry. "Do you honestly think I _wanted_ to be like this? Always hearing things, being able to read people's thoughts; do think any decent feline would _want_ that? It came with the tails! _I never wanted this!!_"

Mittens realized she had gotten onto this cat's nerves, so she tried something else. "Who did you live with, before this happened?"

She hoped he would calm down a bit when she said that. Bad luck, Mittens; he didn't.

"I had several. But two boys, they only came in the summers, and I stayed with them while they were there. And then they left, and they didn't come back, and then some _new_ guys came in, and I was taken to a lab on mainland Istanbul, and I was given these _ridiculous_ tails and this _horrendous_ ability to read minds, both of which separate me as a _freak of humanity_ from all other cats!! _Who wants THAT??!!"_

"I have the odd feeling you've told me this before."

"Me too. Must be some kind of glitch in the story."

"What glitch?"

Vincent sighed. Mittens didn't need to see in Yellow Eccentric to read his thoughts: this is gonna be a _really_ long night. Considering that the night was more than half over when Mittens had begun her adventure, of a sort.

"OK, here's something I ought to tell you. Other than why I look like Gertrude McFuzz in feline form. When I was in that place, I thought and thought in those few moments they spared me from operations. And I finally figured it out. I'm not really part of this, I thought. I may just be a side character in the main story of creation, which would explain why all this stuff was happening to me. And the only way to become a greater character, and therefore have a greater life expectancy rate, was to be _next to_ a greater character."

"So I thought about my life beforehand, and decided that the two boys who I met were the most probable big players. And I was strangely aware of where they were. I found out later that this was because all three of us seemed to share the same DNA code, so we were aware of where the other was. And I knew that they were in Toronto, Canada."

"But that's basically across the country from here!" said Mittens.

"But I still made it. I escaped from the lab, jumping through a window. Fortunately, it was on the eight floor, so I was able to reach the ground without too much harm done. Then, I ran off to wherever I heard the noise of a plane."

"Somehow, I managed to sneak into the airport. Since the new abilities I had seemed to receive had given me the advantage of being able to read fluently in any human language, I soon found a plane heading to Toronto, and did a bit of unseen hitchhiking. Trust me, the inside of a plane is _not_ comfortable. I mean, what's the whole point of flying if you're just going to carry bags? Even _birds_ are more clever than that."

"Well, not so much as you think," said Mittens, knowingly. "Pigeons probably would do that."

"You obviously haven't met the type of seagulls I have. They build nests on the sidewalk. I wouldn't go near 'em, though. They're as big as me."

"Yikes," said Mittens.

* * *

"Anyhow, I traveled across the seas to Toronto, and followed the feeling. I walked along the side of the 401, until I reached the North York area. There, I searched and searched until I felt the presence of someone familiar in a house there. I ran into the garden, and waited.

"I tried to hide my disappointment as I found another man coming out of the house. This was not my owners' house; they must live somewhere else. I heard the man exclaim, 'What a nice house! A pity the old owners moved to where I used to live. Ah, well, on my visit to Emily I can thank them for selling it to me. Silverlake sure seems far away now.'"

"'Silverlake!' I thought. 'They never said anything about moving to a lake of silver.' But I decided that I would be better off if I went to them. And the way to them seemed to be through this man here."

"I waited over there for goodness knows how long. It may even have been years. But it paid off; soon, I saw the man loading some baggage into a car of some sort. Having had a bit to eat sometime earlier, I jumped in one of the bags while he wasn't looking, and headed off on my next journey."

* * *

"I was asleep for most of the ride, and then the ride after; it was too uncomfortable otherwise. But once we stopped, I decided to get out. As I attempted opening the zip, I found it was being opened for me. The person had seemed to have to declare something. Which was bad news if he didn't know _I_ was in there, undeclared.

"Somehow, he missed me. Gosh, the guy must've been blind. He looked like he wore glasses, and reminded me of someone, somehow. Anyway, he brought me to the house over here, which I assume is yours, and I jumped out the window while he wasn't looking.

"Since then, I've been going around the houses, trying to figure out where my owner is. I was on the verge of going back home, so I went back here to try and find that man. But I met you instead, and your own memory can fill you in on the details from there."

* * *

"I think you came a bit late," said Mittens. "The man who visited a couple days ago was Penny's father, or so he said. Personally, I think that Penny and her mom seemed a bit hypnotized while he was there. He left yesterday."

It seemed as though Vincent hadn't heard what she said. Then, in a low voice, he said "Mittens, are you sure that he left?"

"Yeah, why?"

"'Cause that was my last chance of getting home," said Vincent. "I gave up trying to find them, because I realized they'd find me later. But now, they may have gone back, and they must think I'm dead, and," his voice broke off, and he seemed to stifle a sob, "they were the only ones who could help me." And the cat, dejected, sat down on the ground, hiding his face.

Mittens seemed to feel a bit of pity for him. After all, such an event had happened to her, although it wasn't quite the same. But although she considered going up to him and comforting him, it just didn't quite feel right yet. So she decided to help out this cat.

"Can I help?"

Vincent lifted his head up for a moment, then said, "How?"

"Well," said Mittens, "I pretty much know my way around this town, so perhaps I could help you find your owner."

Vincent looked at her. "You'd really do that?"

"Of course," said Mittens, kindly.

She must've done a lot for him. The cat got up again, but this time, he seemed to have a certain movement about him that seemed optimistic. There even seemed to be excitement, but his voice was quite calm as he said, "And I know just how to help _you_ in return."

"How?" said Mittens.

"Well, you may be interested to know that there may be a creature about to take over your world. I was informed of such before the two boys left, through their conversations."

"Oh yeah? What's his name?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"I might. Plus we're alone here, in case it's too secret to reveal."

Vincent sighed. "Alright."

"His name is – " but he broke off, and then started again. What he said was: "The sandwiches."

Mittens was about to speak, but he started running towards town, and said to her, "I'll explain on the way."

* * *

§ Author's Note: I will write when I can. I will truly appreciate it if you review. And I finally revealed the villain's name!§


	15. Chapter 15:ThreeFold Explanation Part 1

_**The Stories of Beyond the Tree: A Bolt Saga, with a Little Help**_

Author's Note: Brilliant! Second chapter with Mittens in a row! But I'm also going to have a bit of Bolt and Rhino here, too. Oh, and by the way, sorry for how late this is.

"Well, that seems to make up for a few things!" said Mittens. "By the way, you don't own any of us, and I heard Connector's buying his own copyright. You've forgotten to say that for a couple chapters."

"He can't do _that!_ _I'm_ his owner!"

"Just you watch me," said the phooka.

"OK, then, you. We've got a story to make, and I really don't know what to do. Please co-operate. Please?"

* * *

** Chapter 15: The Three-Fold Explanation Part 1**

"Code Green!" said a tiny robot in Bolt's head. "All primary drives functioning."

"Excellent," said the Connector, who had woken up. "Now set the system on full alert, and begin cognition. But please, keep memory down for a bit, until help has arrived. Got it?"

"Affirmative." And the droid began typing instructions to its colleagues.

A line of type filled the screen:

K. A D A E P B E A E C E I

The phooka cracked his knuckles together, and then fixed the bones in his hands.

* * *

Bolt woke up. He looked around, and sniffed a bit, and then listened. That was all he needed to analyze his situation. He was in a house, perhaps in the living room, on some sort of a sofa, there were footsteps coming towards him, and there was a growing scent of some sort of meat. For once in this story so far, his stomach began to growl.

Then a person came into the room, bringing the tantalizing scent of food even closer. Bolt barely noticed the person's characteristics, merely registering that the person's voice seemed familiar as it said "Breakfast's ready" to him. But then he was too busy chomping down the food that had been put out for him.

Finally, after finishing the food, he looked up. And let me tell you something. What he did _not_ see was a perfectly ordinary human being.

What he actually _saw_ was a tiny metal humanoid structure, hovering above him, and waving.

"_Yikes_!" Bolt shouted, and started running the other way, before bumping into a pair of legs.

"Oh, please," said a somewhat familiar voice, "You've just woken up, are fully refreshed, just had a full breakfast, and the best thing you can come up with is _yikes_? I mean, honestly, perhaps you could get a bit of flair? And even after PUKA created a holographic me to disguise himself with, too. A shame."

Bolt looked up, again, without really seeing the person, and replied, growling, "Well, you try it sometime, being original when you're in a strange place talking to a strange person and have no idea what happened before you arrived here!"

"Huh. Well at least this is my debut on _any_ form of media!" said the voice, and finally, Bolt scanned the speaker. He seemed tall, but then again, all humans seemed tall. He appeared to have a large amount of golden fur on the top of his head, and his eyes were a color that flashed between blue and green. On the side of his right hand, which Bolt had a clear view of, there was a tiny black dot.

Then, Bolt suddenly remembered. He had heard that voice what seemed like five minutes ago. He had heard the voice when the hands picked him up, when he had gone into shock, when _Penny had rejected him…_

"Oh, gods," said the thirteen-year-old, kneeling down to take a look at the dog that was beginning to have a crazed look in its eyes. "Bolt, listen to me. Stop! BOLT!"

That was more than enough to get Bolt to get back into his surroundings. He managed to stutter a few words. "She…left me…"

"Bolt, I know how hard it must be for you to understand, but _this did not happen_. Remember when you arrived back at the studio, and you saw Penny embrace that other dog, and then it turned out she was simply embracing it because it reminded her a little of you? This is pretty much the same situation! You need to get a grip!"

"Just wait a minute," said Bolt. "How exactly do you know _that_? And how are you able to understand me?"

"Oh, so now we're on _personal_ matters, are we?" said the boy. But almost immediately afterwards, he relaxed a bit. "Oh, Bolt, I'm sorry. But I'm as stressed about this as you are. So we've got to work together on this."

"Work together on what? And how exactly can I trust you?" said Bolt, with a bit of accusation in his voice.

The boy sighed. "Ah, well, I guess it's about time we introduced ourselves. We know who you are, Bolt: TV star, resident of Silverlake, cross-country traveler. The robot in the back is the Personalized U-Neutrino Kinetic Assistant, a little invention of mine. And I? Well, I'm basically a language-maker, a universe-creator, a genius, a philosopher, and surprisingly enough, a rather arrogant person, from the way I've been describing myself. I am John Olwanczyk, helper of those who are good, talker of Alspeak, language of eternity, and friend of the Connector."

"So you're the guy who is supposed to help me?" said Bolt.

"In theory, yes. I might shake you up a bit, cause a bit of insanity at times, but I'll still help."

"HA!" said the robot behind Bolt, in a surprising personified voice. "If you could."

"Great. You just ruined my big moment, you know!" said John, glaring at the robot.

* * *

"Er, John?" said Bolt. "Why am I here?"

"You mean, why are you here in my house? I brought you here. You see, you wanted to save Penny, right? 'Cause she needs saving."

Bolt looked at the ground. "But… but she rejected me."

"Bolt, as I said before, Penny was under a form of hypnosis. That boy she was talking to, the one who said you weren't her dog? He's probably the one doing it all.

"But I have something to point out to you, Bolt. Do you remember what day it was when you left?"

Bolt thought about it. "I think it was a Saturday."

"Let me scan your brainwaves," said the tiny robot that was hovering next to Bolt; and before the dog could do anything, a tiny light was being shone on his head.

After a few seconds, PUKA, as the robot was called, said, "It was on Saturday, October 3rd, 2009. Some months after you went across the country."

"OK, Bolt," said John, "now I'm going to tell you today's date. It is Monday, September 28th, 2009."

Bolt started to say, "That's impossible", but then remembered that he had been traveling with the phooka. "So you mean I've come back along my own timeline?"

"By five days," said John. "That gives us enough time to save Penny and the world."

"But who are we saving it from?" asked Bolt.

* * *

"Er, Rhino?" said what Rhino thought was Bolt.

"Uh, yeah?" said Rhino, stopping an extremely exaggerated version of his story.

"For some reason, I think you've been acting a bit odd."

"How do you mean?" asked Rhino, sounding concerned.

"Well, for one, you don't really seem to be acting as yourself. You're just acting rather oddly, crazy with anger one moment and bouncing with excitement the next. Your personality seems to have gotten extremely one-dimensional. And it _isn't your fault_. I just think that someone has been meddling with your brain."

"Wow, Bolt! You're not usually _this_ smart!" said Rhino, somewhat awed.

"See what I mean? So I think it may be a good idea to try and give you a bit more…personality."

"_Hey!_" exclaimed Rhino. "What do ya mean by that, hmm?! I don't think _you_ have so much personality!"

"Er, Rhino," said the dog, "I'm _Bolt_, remember?"

"But I don't think you are! I don't even think you're a dog! _Hey!_ You're that hamster I was _chasing_, aren't you?! Admit it!"

There was a pause. Then, 'Bolt' said, "Do you realize it's taken you a _whole chapter_ to figure that out?"

"I _knew_ it! I _knew_ it!" Rhino shouted, jumping up and down. "And you can change forms, like…like…"

"A semi-existential multi-matter organism?" asked the creature.

"Yeah! Hey, that's good. But that's beside the point!" said the hamster, going from an awed voice to a furious one in a matter of sentences.

"Sort of," said the pseudo-Bolt, before turning towards the reader and saying, "I just know he's going to pounce me."

"Oof! Told you," he said when seconds later, Rhino jumped him, planning to do goodness knows what.

He never got the chance, mostly because 'Bolt' changed into a lion and flicked the hamster back onto the floor with his tail.

Before Rhino could get up, the lion pounced on _him_, caught him in his claws (which had the points retracted), and brought him close to the beast's face.

"Now, normally for small animals like you who have offended me, I would eat you," growled the lion, "but you still have a lot of things that you need to do, so I won't eat you if you don't attack me again. Ever. Got it?"

Lion speech is usually difficult to understand, even for domesticated cats, but Rhino got the message, and nodded.

"Good. Now, I'm going to put you down and change to a better shape. And when I say better, I don't mean better for _me_. I just think it would be best if we talked as _equals_, got it?"

Another nod. Then, as Rhino was dropped to the ground (which at the moment was a bright purple), the lion started shrinking. His massive claws became smaller and smaller, eventually becoming three-toed paws. The magnificent mane shrunk down, and soon disappeared altogether, leaving a simple fur covering on the creature's head. And the long, asparagus-shaped tail shrunk down, leaving no remnant of its existence. In a manner of seconds, the huge lion had shrunken down to become the hamster that had started Rhino's journey.

The landscape seemed to change as well. When Rhino had arrived inside the TV, the landscape had been continuously changing and warping before his eyes. Now, though, it resolved into the location of a rather nice RV park, which for some reason had pinwheels where one would usually find flowers.

Rhino goggled.

"Yep, I got the right location," said the Hamster next to him. (Note the capital letter, by the way.) "We came to precisely where your life changed forever."

Rhino stared.

"And I knew this place would be untouched, because due to the peculiar logic of bookworm worlds, unless a place is shown again, it stays in exactly the same time –frame as it was left in. Brilliant, the guy who came up with that theory."

Rhino gawked.

"You know, I think this is the first time in your _life_ you've been so quiet – oh. My. _Gods_."

If you're wondering why he said that, it was because he had just seen what Rhino had been goggling, staring, and gawking at for the past few minutes.

It was himself.

* * *

For those who don't really understand the situation here, I think it may help if I put another Paragraph of Understanding. I couldn't find any flashy backgrounds for it.

The odd hamster had brought Rhino to an artificially created RV Park, the same RV where his adventures had started. But he had not realized that while they were in the TV, he had forgotten one key point: Time.

Since a TV can show several different places and times at once, it becomes a veritable multiverse, filled with a collection of different species, different universes, different eras. The hamster had, accidentally, brought Rhino to the wrong time. He had brought Rhino to his past, which is why it looked the same as it was when he had left it.

* * *

The Rhino from the present was looking at his past. The earlier Rhino was sitting on a small desk, watching TV. Various quotes came out of the speaker, quotes that Rhino remembered well; he had seen these movies hundreds of times later in his life, when he started to feel a bit of homesickness.

He then turned to face the Hamster beside him, and when he spoke, it was in a surprisingly calm voice. But one could tell he did not want to jump on the hamster. In fact, he seemed much calmer than usual; almost out of character.

"Why are we here?" he asked.

The other hamster scratched his head. "I honestly don't know. I tried to bring you here so that you'd be safe, but although I got the right location, it seems like I got the wrong time. You have arrived in your past."

"Hold it. You said I would be safe. Safe from what, exactly?"

"Well, I suppose I'd better tell you. By the way, you can call me the Odd One."

* * *

"_The sandwiches_?" asked Mittens, as she ran alongside Vincent. "What kind of a name is _that_?"

"Well, I should really wait for the next line of stars before answering that question."

"What?"

"Never mind. Here it is, and cue the Three-Fold Explanation!"

* * *

Inside Bolt's head, the Connector had managed to get himself a cubicle, and was working like a maniac, typing at 300 words per minute onto a giant supercomputer, although not as big as the one that he was inside at the moment.

"I'm going to patch through so that John, Vincent, and the Odd One are all speaking at once, as are Bolt, Mittens, and Rhino. John and the others will be speaking in _italics_, and Bolt and co. will speak normally. Let the data-surfing commence!"

* * *

§ Author's Note: I will write when I can. I will truly appreciate it if you review. In the next chapter, please follow the guidelines the phooka has set for you.§


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